


While Your Lips Are Still Red

by endlesseternities



Series: Angels Fall First [3]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety, Blood, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Consensual Underage Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, First Time, Impregnation, Kissing at Midnight, Loss of Virginity, Mental telepathy, Moaning, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Passion, Romance, Screaming, Sex Positions, Spooning, Tears, True Love, caressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesseternities/pseuds/endlesseternities
Summary: The deleted chapters of Jafar and Jahanara's first time together with carnal relations. 18+





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The missing "pledging one's self to another" scene, and there are going to be explicit themes of sexuality involved. See the tags listed above. I'd like to think of this as kind of like a wedding scene, only they're not officially married. It's more like an engagement of sorts.
> 
> Don't be alarmed--- my princess is seventeen in the story, and Jafar's maybe mid-to-late fifties. Back in the historical time frame, princesses were married off by sixteen and had children by seventeen. This would have been considered a marriageable age! 
> 
> And also, spoilers will follow inward if you haven't read all of "Sleeping Sun" yet; she becomes pregnant by Jafar, and thus, this is how they conceive their first and only child, a young son. Let the romantic smut consume your dash! Perfect music to listen to would be "While Your Lips Are Still Red" by Nightwish.
> 
> I own nothing except Jahanara and Nestarizan; Jafar and Agrabah belong to Disney. This "scene" is set between chapters fourteen and fifteen of "Sleeping Sun." I request comments and kudos, please! Thanks!

"I am sorry," she apologizes.

Jafar's brows come together and as he sits beside her on the lounging cushions, he takes her hand into his and gently places kisses upon her knuckles as he once did before. "Do not apologize, my love. I've dealt with the men and they'll harm you no longer."

She winces in pain as she turns onto her side. She takes her time in trying to make herself comfortable, but she finally lets loose a few tears. In an instant, Jafar touches her now-healing face. "What is wrong?"

"My side. It hurts."

Like a doctor, Jafar begins to examine her. He moves her saree away, only to find that there are multiple cuts on her right side; they seem a little infected, but he still hopes it is nothing too serious. Each cut is red, but with a healing ointment he holds, Jafar gently rubs it over the flesh that is exposed on her side. The ointment is cool to the touch, and when he reaches downward, to the soft curve of her hip. Janni sighs and takes the small bowl of ointment away, thus sitting up to meet her lips with Jafar's.

He takes her into his arms, putting one under her legs and the other around her shoulders. He reels in her small figure, and gently, he returns her kisses as she wraps her arms around his neck, her hands touching the soft hood under his turban. Their bodies are so close, desperate for pleasure and she cannot help but feel as though she's caused all his pain.

Jafar himself breaks the silence with his words. "Janni, I cannot let this be."

She stops kissing him and when she looks up into his eyes, she lovingly entwines her fingers in his twisted goatee. The blackness of the hair softly shines upon her fingers, and never has she found him to be so beautiful, so handsome in all her life.

But like an innocent, she pleads. "Please, I don't care. Make me yours."

"You remember what the prophecy says. If you choose me over your family, you'll be forgotten; your name won't be remembered and there'll be consequences. Janni, don't you understand that I love you too much to condemn you?"

And how sweetly he puts it! As a man of intimidating looks and stature, she could care less if he seems vile, if he seems evil; she knows she was put on the earth to help him become who he is, not caring about whether or not she would be forgotten by name.

"And don't you believe that my love for you is true?"

He lowers his forehead to hers and their jewels touch again, rubies gleaming in the firelight. And in an undeniable show of affection, Janni slowly puts his hand upon her breast, and there, she holds it as if he will go away again. She knows that if he leaves that it will kill her; she does not want to go through all that pain again, even under death's watch. She forms fresh tears and allows them to fall from the corners of her eyes.

"Please, make me yours. I don't want any other in this life or the next."

She is so defiant, so determined; he cannot help but love that about her. She, the beautiful little scorpion, wishing to collide with his cobra soul. And how can he deny?

"Very well, my love. But I warn you--- there will be pain."

She laughs at that! "Honestly, Jafar, with what we've been through, I am not afraid."

When she lies beneath him, he presses himself down upon her; their pelvises meet, their lips too, but always he is careful with her. The two are completely alone and nude as their clothes fall off their bodies, to the floor in solemn manners, save for the jewel she wears. She reclines upon her bed and spreads her legs open for him eagerly. When he places himself at her entrance, he sees the love in her eyes. The velvety tip of his cock slides between her folds. Her sheath feels so beautiful, so swollen and he has not even allowed himself entry. Instead, he lowers his lips to her dark nipples, and he licks them with hunger. His teeth gently rake her flesh and the princess groans beneath him.

 _'Don't leave me on the edge_ ,' she whispers to him, mentally with their bond. _'Don't leave me so soon when I have not even become a woman yet_.'

The vizier can hear her voice inside his head.

 _'Enter me, Jafar. Let your body savor mine, let your hands tremble as you collide into me. I won't want it any other way, so I beg you. Grant me the gift of your love and take this body for your own_.'

And how can he refuse the wishes of his princess?

He hovers over her and leans downward. His lips claim hers, and as he thinks to her, connecting his mind with hers, he begins to feel how her sweet womanhood slicks his cock. ' _Just breathe outward, then in. It will hurt you, my love, but I shall try to make this as painless as possible. Now, let me fill you_.'

She doesn't say anything either in a telepathic sense or loud verbal trance, and he enters her, pushing through her barrier, tearing her hymen. She arches her back and breaks her lips from Jafar's. The princess trembles as he sinks into her even deeper. Violent-like, her fingernails claw his thin back and they rake across his ribs, his spine. He howls in pleasure, though he feels horrid for causing her pain though he warned her. But as she regains herself, as she bites her lips and begins to breathe through her nose, she relaxes. Jafar notices how she shivers once and without a word, she allows her fingernails to leave his poor, tender skin.

"Are you alright, Jahanara?"

She can't answer. Through her nipples, her womb and swollen pink nub, her body is electrified with pleasure-pain. It sinks through her and as Jafar struggles to keep himself upward, she throws him onto his back. She pins him down and bravely, proves that she is a willing candidate to learn all there is from her new master. "Yes, I'm alright. But please, I don't know what to do."

He leans up and she sinks further onto his cock. The pain intensifies for a second, but as he motions in and out, back and forth, he glides her hips by putting his hands there. The princess begins to understand the motions. She raises her hips and does as he shows her. She follows his rhythm, and as a reward, Jafar licks his fingers, reaches down to her nub, and makes circular motions there, her eyes now watering and heart racing. Her breasts shake as he begins to thrust harder.

 _'I'm yours_ ,' she thinks. _'I'm yours, yours and no one else's; I swear on the graves of my ancestors, I'm yours. I want no other man to be my beloved, to be my husband, and even if mortal law dictates that we cannot be, I do not care. My womb now belongs to you, Jafar. With you, I am whole_.'

Now she moans aloud and starts to cry. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her in, his tongue colliding with hers. The wetness of their organs slicks them both and as she cries, her tears fall down between them. He loves her now more than ever. In his whole life, she's the only one who's ever given herself willingly. He has never raped a woman, though many would presume he has because of his demeanor. However, it has never been true. Now as she grinds her hips, he starts to pound into her, expanding her sweet tightness with each nudge he can.

He groans into her breasts, a satisfaction which is beyond one he deserves. He's never felt so loved in his whole life and as he makes love to her, he softly turns her onto her side, raising a leg up in the air. He slides out of her once, then when her back is against his chest, her shoulder in the junction of his throat, he enters her again and feels how she engulfs him with warmth. Her fluids glisten upon his cock, and he can smell how her virginal blood has been shed upon him.

"I love you, my beautiful _eurus_. You and you alone, I will love until the end of my days. And no matter what happens," he chokes between thrusts, his throat tightening from building pleasure, "I will always be with you, for you and in you."

Now he snaps his hips wildly against hers. She's so close to her climax that the emotion is all alight in her eyes. She can no longer hold on, and so Jafar kisses her neck and lies the side of his face atop of hers. Her shapely buttocks quiver at his roughness, but she's never loved feeling empowered by another before. He thrusts once, twice, three more times, and then, as he turns her face to meet his, he comes. His seed flows vividly and hot into her canal, sinking down to her child-like womb. Jafar grips her breasts as he finishes thrusting hard and violently into her.

She comes as well, and her fluids slink down his shaft as he stills inside her, allowing his seed to escape in the heat of their lovemaking. Sweat glistens her forehead and body, as does his. The tips of her toes are curled and her nub throbs, throbs from the most beautiful experience she has ever felt. She feels him pull out and in the candlelight, Jafar can see how her folds are swollen, red and aching; the little veins pulse against the surface of her flesh, and she's so beautiful.

"Allow me, Princess..."

She is almost confused, but then she realizes what he means. He sinks down the bed and lies in front of her exposed parts. She shivers; she can feel his breath upon her and as he grips the warm fields of her thighs, he sinks his face into her flesh and his goatee, along with his beard, brush against her. Jahanara whimpers as he slinks his tongue into her canal. His breath makes her glisten and with deep, deep lunges, he toys with her nub again with his fingers.

"Jafar! Don't stop, please..."

In an instant, her sweat merges with her fluids as she comes again. Her moans are loud enough for the dead to hear, but neither one cares. She grips the silk red sheets of her bed, and her eyes are aligned with fresh tears. Both of her lips tremble. She then reaches a hand to his head and snakes her fingers within his black hair. She cannot stop coming, and for him, it is a cascade of flavor, of an exotic aroma. The hood of her flesh reaches the most heightened of pleasures. Jafar looks up at her, and as her legs tremble wildly, he senses she is done. He backs away and slides up to caress her from behind. He places a hand upon her breast and lovingly, teasingly, squeezes it as if it's one of the most sacred things in the deserts, as if it is more precious than water and life.

"Did I hurt you at all, _amyrti_?"

She shakes her head as she gives him a kiss, her tears falling fresh again. "No, no, you didn't hurt me, but you felt so good."

His heart is overflowing. He cannot help but love her, cannot help but have the urge to make love to her, so that he knows she will never be alone or lost. He pulls her in close and sets his cock at her slit again, rubbing it, watching her bite her lip as she smiles. She's so wet that she believes that they've soiled the fine embroidery. But no matter.

As the stars shine over the palace, she begins to appear drowsy. He feels it too in his old bones, and Jafar nurses her to have his chest touch her back. It's warm, hot and beaded; her black hair flows over the rich, thick pillows and as he kisses her neck once, she closes her eyes and begins to sleep. He puts an arm over her abdomen, and he too begins to fall deep asleep, aware that he's made love to the most beautiful woman in all the Sahara.


	2. Chapter 2

When he sleeps, she slides down the length of the bed.

Jafar’s hips are visible through the sheet that covers them, and his tan legs are exposed as well; his cock is long, thick and voluminous as one can see. It stirs her imagination. It achieves her attention. _He is beautiful_ , she thinks. _He is handsome, lithe and tremulous to behold; and now, he is mine forever_.

Though she is no longer a maiden intact, she still thinks like one. She has heard about what women do to men, what men do to women. He’s proven his devotion to her by tasting her, loving her. She wants to please in return. Her shaking digits slide up the inner gap of his thigh and when she kneels on the bed, he moves slightly and inhales.

With a sensuous tone, he inquires. “What are you up to now, _tafali_?”

His eyes crack open and she is there, kneeling, positioned upright with her hands hiding her cleft. Her breasts are exposed and they are round, they are lush and beautifully large. His cock hardens at the sight of her loveliness, and when she moves the sheet away, his member is engorged with much blood.

She lowers herself down and lies on her stomach, promptly positioned between his legs. Oh Allah, he knows what she wants to learn--- the deadliest game of pleasure, the most haughty, the most desirable act. Quietly, the Princess takes his cock into her hand and she instinctively begins to lick. Her tongue slides beneath his shaft and he registers a groan.

_“Janni!”_

She does not stop.

Each lick of her tongue is wet and hot, and his veins begin to throb against her palm. The feeling of blood fills his veins and fills her with the sensation that she is conquering him. His velvety tip is laced with early essence and it is pearl-white. By Allah, she wants him. And hungrily, the Princess engulfs his whole length into her throat, his shaft, his tip, all riding past her teeth carefully as she starts to suckle.

His shaft throttles in her hand. The Princess smiles up at her aged beloved and revels in his reactions. His thick, shapely brows arch and pull inward as he throws his head back. Jafar starts to slightly thrust into her mouth. He grips her head lovingly with his hand and she nearly chokes, but does not. Her womb is somersaulting.

“You are a djinn, I swear,” he half-laughs. “Oh, but you are my love, my girl, my princess. _Always…”_

Then a cascade of the strangest flavor enters her mouth as he comes. His essence flows into her throat and when she suckles it all, swallows, it astonishes him nonetheless. He is not handsome to the eyes of most women, he is a monster and a callous-looking bastard. He knows this to be true. But she does not care. If she didn’t care, if she was so horrified by him, why would she be allowing his essence in?

  
He wants to cry because he feels so loved. She loves him and he loves her; that is all that matters.

But before Jafar can say any more, she feels him finish and she wipes her mouth clean. She kneels upright again and crawls on her knees. He knows what she is about to do. It’s clear that she means to pleasure him further.

Jahanara puts her hands on his lower abdomen and when she spreads her legs, she takes his cock in hand and positions herself over him. Her clit is rubbed raw with his tip and soon enough, she sinks onto him. He gasps and sits up. She, with her odd strength, pushes him back down and starts to move.

Her canal is expanded and she moves her hips back and forth. Her breasts swing in the same manner, and when he moves into her, thrusting up, thrusting hard, the Princess’ eyes water and she is in tears.

“I love you, _shamsi_. I love you more than anything in the world, _nujumi_. Please, say you love me too,” she cries. “I won’t want another in this life and even with all the pain and horror that may come in the future, I will still be yours. I promise on my life.”

He flings himself up and wraps his arms around her back; they are now entwined in the Lotus position and he sinks into her further than ever; their foreheads touch and their lips combine. This is the purest act of love either one of them has received or given. He is a man of fifty and seven, and she is a woman now of ten and seven. Forty years apart, yet their love seems true; how odd the Prophet has ordained this to be, and yet, this seems like a ghost love score waiting to be written and broken all the same.

And to slate his princess, he replies as he kisses her lips, her tongue and soul. “I am yours and you are mine. And if I must die to prove that, then I will, because I love you with all my black-beaten heart.”


End file.
